Miscellaneous
by Batmanskipper
Summary: A collection of short stories no more than two chapters in length about pretty much anything I can come up with.


**Bread and Circuses**

**Training Exercise: Sea Legs**

**Day 3**

**1600 hours**

Rico was now starting to regret his decision to join his friend's quest, to become more than flightless birds. It was all pretty fun up until now: the sparring sessions (who knew Kowalski could scream so pathetically?), the weapons, and best of all the explosions. In fact, the three days of sailing had been pretty fun too, except for the rations. Apparently, despite the fact fish came from the sea, Skipper said the ones you'd catch 'round here, if it wasn't already dead, were ones you didn't want to taste, so they were restricted to two tinned sardines for lunch and dinner, and one for breakfast. Rico normally would eat a whole tin for breakfast! Looking at the murky water all around them, and seeing what looked like fish swimming beneath the surface, though he was told by Private they were plastic bags, didn't help.

"My she's yar." Private commented, attempting to spark conversation, or at least get in Skipper's good books.

"You' got no idea wha' that mean'." Rico countered.

"I heard it in a film."

"Yar," Kowalski immediately piped up, spotting an opportunity to show off just how much reading he'd done in preparation for the trip, "Definition: Adjective, quick and agile…"

"Yeah wha'ever," Rico interrupted, "Ah a'ready know."

"And the film from which you were quoting, though incorrectly was The Philadelphia Story, starring…"

"Ready about!" Skipper shouted as the boom swept over their heads.

"Skipper seems to be overprotective of box which, based on temperature readings in nearby vicinity would suggest is artificially cooled," The scientist stated, writing on his clipboard as he spoke. He was easily distracted.

"Those would be the emergency rations," Skipper answered, glancing over his shoulder at the team, though his attention quickly returned to the gigantic freighter they narrowly missed, "Inside are seven Alaskan salmon, twelve tins of tuna... Stop drooling Rico. Those are for emergencies only, before you get any ideas."

"Well, considering the fact that our current rations only barely meet our nutritional needs," Kowalski began to suggest, "Perhaps it might be wiser to..."

"Who's in charge, your brain or your stomach?" Skipper interrupted, "What happens if we get blown off course and end up marooned on an island in the middle of nowhere?"

"I don't mean to contradict you," Private timidly countered, "But that is rather unlikely. We are in the middle of the Hudson."

"Anything can happen on a mission, boys. Anything."

* * *

**2015 hours**

"...Probably eating those delicious kippers while we starve on these rations," Kowalski whispered. Rico nodded in agreement, "So you're with me?"

"Wha'? 'Cause you ain' smart 'nough to do it y'self?" Rico smirked.

"You take that back!" The scientist snapped indignantly, "I am perfectly capable of..."

"Shhh you gon' wake Pri'ate." Rico hissed, but it was already too late. The naive goody two shoes of the team had already heard too much.

"You aren't seriously going to steal..." The penguin sat up in his bunk, staring at his fellow teammates.

"oo knock 'im out and ah'll toss 'im overboard." Rico hissed.

"That won't be necessary," Kowalski replied hurriedly, not quite sure if that was a joke, and if it wasn't, he was considering his options for jumping ship, "I have this covered. Now, young Private, you aren't actually going to tell Skipper, are you?"

"Well, I think Prince Shares-a-lot would..." Private began to answer, but was quickly cut off.

"Private, we aren't just penguins anymore. We're a team now, and a team's got to stick together. You know, brothers in arms and all that."

"I haven't known either of you more than a month, I'm not sure I'm quite comfortable calling you brothers yet," Private replied, not swayed, "Anyway, Skippah said our honour and integrity are what makes us..."

"But you've understood him incorrectly."

"I don't think so." Private replied, unaware of any other interpretations of the words.

"Private, what is the penguin credo?"

"Never swim alone."

"Well, by turning us in, your swimming alone, aren't you, because as the statement that you're not swimming with the team is true. In fact, Skipper would probably be angry if you told on us because you turned on the team."

"I guess..." Private frowned, confused by these new ideas, "I won't tell on you, but I won't have any part of it."

"Don't worry. You were fast asleep this whole time."

* * *

**Day 4**

**0100 hours**

Rico found himself shaken awake at what was an hour off literally the middle of the night.

"'ey, wha' goin'." He groaned.

"You're second watch," Skipper explained, "Remember you traded with Private?"

"'Eah."

"You know your course? Just make sure you start luffing if the wind gets too strong. I'd prefer if you didn't capsize us 'cause you want to see how fast you can go."

"Yup." Rico dragged himself out of his bunk and climbed the steps, exiting the small cabin. Near the prow, covered by a waterproof tarp was the emergency ration box. He listened for the soft footsteps and the gentle creak as Skipper climbed into his bunk before he could restrain himself no further. He charged at the tarp, throwing it back and fiddling with the clasp of the lid when suddenly he heard the creak and patter again in the opposite order. Glancing around desperately, there was no time to refasten the tarp, so he did the only thing he could think of, and dived under it.

"What's all that noise...?" Skipper demanded as he stepped on deck. He looked around, noting that Rico was nowhere in sight. It was during these observations that he noticed an unusual lump under the tarp. He strode over and threw back the plastic, to find Rico looking up at him guiltily.

"Kind of hard to spot a space squid from under there," Skipper commented dryly.

"Ah, um, ah was jus'..."

"I know exactly what you were doing," Skipper scowled, "Sleeping on watch. If we weren't in training, you could have gotten yourself in serious trouble."

"Sorry, 'ippah." Rico apologised, doing his best to look genuine.

"You look exhausted," Rico actually was tiered, having spent a decent portion of the time he was supposed to be sleeping imagining what kinds of fish were in that box. Skipper re-pinned the tarp as Rico scrambled out from under it, and his scowl lessened, "I won't tell any of the team, but if..."

"Yeah." Though Rico loathed seeming weak, he could swallow his pride to not have to sit through one of Skipper's lectures while Kowalski smirked at him.

"I'll let you off this time. I had one too many cups of coffee on my last watch, and I probably won't be able to sleep anyway. I'll take this watch too if you'll helm tomorrow."

"Nah, it' fine." This wasn't good. If Skipper took over, Kowalski would start his watch directly after Skipper and potentially beat him. He couldn't go after the fish while Skipper was on watch.

"Rico, my concern is for the safety of the team. That was an order."

* * *

**0400 hours**

Kowalski was already awake and seated on the edge of his bunk in excitement when Skipper came in.

"Something you know that I don't, Kowalski?" Skipper whispered suspiciously.

"No sir!" Kowalski answered hurriedly in equally hushed tones, doing his best to hide his clipboard covered with incriminating calculations, "I just... uh... like watch. Lots and lots of fascinating… Dihydrogen Monoxide." Before Skipper had time to answer he was already up the steps and seated at what he had calculated was the least suspicious location. There he remained until the time he'd allotted as enough, according to previous patterns, for Skipper to almost certainly be fast asleep had passed, then he started slowly towards the box at the bow.

When he reached the box he cautiously opened it, surveying the contents by the light of the moon. The fishes were stacked neatly as he'd predicted, and he carefully removed the first fish, then the next three beneath it. He put the three fish to the side, he wasn't going to be too greedy yet as the more fish he took the higher the probability Skipper would literally smell something fishy, and then reached behind the box for where he'd already stashed one of Miss Perky's dresses. He folded it so it took up approximately the same amount of space as the three fishes then replaced the first on top. Skipper hopefully wouldn't check until they got back and he could replace the missing fishes, but if even if he did, it wouldn't point to him. This however, would be the time he learned it was good to always have more than one contingency plan.

Unaware of this he tucked the fish under his arm, his clipboard hiding them lest somebody should surprise him, all but singing as he started his walk back towards the stern. Without warning his foot caught on a rope lying dangerously in the middle of the deck, causing him to stumble. There was the sound like the world's fastest snake as the sheet, to use the technical term as it was attached to a sail, zipped past his foot and away into the darkness, evidently having been knocked free of whatever cleat was holding it. However just as he was trying to make the calculations as to how bad this could be, when the probable conclusion to his train of thought hit him in the side of the head, knocking him clear over the side.

* * *

Private, who was a light sleeper, was awakened by a thump and a splash. Immediately he was on his feet, and was on deck by the time Skipper was opening his eyes, never mind slapping Rico awake. He arrived just in time to see Kowalski's unconscious form face down in the water, rolling up and down with the waves. Rico, though still half asleep, regurgitated a rope, and making a loop lassoed the scientist, pulling him back on board.

"Is he alright, Skippah?" Private asked worriedly.

"I think a bad headache will be the most of his problems, depending on how much water he swallowed." Skipper replied calmly. Private had always admired that; he was barely restraining himself from panicking, "I think the boom knocked him overboard," returning order to the wildly flapping sails.

"What's that?" Private asked.

"That big metal bar attached to the bottom of the main sail," Skipper replied, "I told Kowalski it wasn't a good idea to leave the sails up while we're anchored."

"But I thought Kowalski told you…"

"Ah gettin' medical 'it." Rico interrupted returning back downstairs. A few seconds later, however, various grunts that suggested he was having trouble finding the article were heard from the cabin.

"Keep an eye on him, Private," Skipper ordered, starting down the steps to assist.

"...even now, Rico…" Kowalski muttered. Immediately Private was knelt beside him.

"Are you alright? How many wings am I holding up...?!" However it soon became apparent that Kowalski was not really awake.

"...Dress in the emergency rations..."

"Dress in the emergency rations?" Private repeated, confused. And why would he think Rico hit him? Rico was asleep at the time.

"Thanks Private," Skipper interrupted his musings, "Give me a hand Rico," Skipper ordered, and much to Rico's annoyance at having spent so much time going after the medical kit, and the two carried the scientist into the cabin.

Private remained on deck. It was his watch now anyway. Still, what Kowalski had said still preyed on his mind. Well, there was only one way to find out before he woke up. Private walked to the prow, carefully drew back the tarp and opened the box. There was nothing amiss. However, as he moved to shut the lid, his wing brushed the contents and the fish moved barely a centimetre to the side, revealing a corner of pink fabric. There was a dress in the emergency rations!

"Skippah?!" Private shouted to inform his captain of his find, however, Kowalski's words from the previous evening echoed in his mind. If Skipper saw that dress, and the fact it seemed to be taking the place of several missing fish, he'd think Rico had eaten them. Apparently Kowalski was trying to warn him of that.

"Yes Private?" Skipper shouted back. No, he had a team, brothers in arms to look after. He wasn't going to swim alone.

"Uh... Nothing, Skippah. Sorry." He grabbed one of the empty tins of sardines from the normal rations, filled it with as many heavy bits and bobs as he could find, before attaching it to the dress and tossing both overboard, the sardine tin dragging it down to the river bed. He doubted Rico would want it anyway, it smelt terribly of fish.

This done, he looked back at the insulated box, and was about to shut the lid when his stomach rumbled, and his eyes locked on the beautiful specimens of sea food before him.

"I suppose..." he began to think, though his wing quickly flew from his side and slapped himself painfully across the face, "No, Private!" He thought as the blood rushed to the throbbing area of skin, "Honesty and integrity. Trust is the backbone of the team." However one more glance in the direction of the fish, and his stomach said otherwise.

"If you ain' gon' eat, ah 'ill." Rico interrupted, making Private jump. Rico's wing grabbed one of the fish without hesitation, and slowly, gingerly, Private's small, shaking wing followed.

* * *

"Wha were ya lookin' in there 'nyway?" Rico asked between fish, "Ya wern' tryin' ya luck, were 'a?"

"If you must know," Private replied, desperately trying to supress the guilt welling inside him, and though the fish tasted good, he couldn't help but feel they were tainted, "It was something Kowalski said. He said there was a dress in the fish cooler, though he also seemed to think you'd been the one who knocked him out. Well, I looked in the emergency rations, and..."

"Tha' li'll..." Rico growled. Private looked at him quizzically, "'ee plan'ed Mi' Perky's dress 'ere." Private's beak dropped so low, and his eyes widened in shock so much that Rico couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"How positively mean of him!" Private gasped as Rico's laughter began to die. His wing reached for the other fish but Rico pulled his hand back, "Oh I'm sorry, I should have asked..."

"Nah, this one's fo' 'Walski."

* * *

**0445 hours**

Private tossed and turned in his bunk, though he could not get to sleep. He remembered Rico's grin as he placed the half eaten fish in the scientist's wing, right on top of the clipboard with the pretty pictures of various fish extraction methods. Private didn't need the fact that this was incriminating explained to him. Finally, after another sleepless five minutes he crept silently to his bunk and removed the fish from the scientist's wing, along with the incriminating pages. Not wanting to risk waking Skipper with further noise that would come with going up on deck, he folded the papers and stuffed them into the mouth of the fish before swallowing it whole. And skipper said eating messages to prevent them from falling into enemy hands was unpleasant. Private allowed himself a small sigh of relief as he climbed back into his bunk. All's well that ends well was what his uncle Nigel always said.

* * *

**A Deserted Island (somewhere)**

**Day 8 (since leaving port)**

**1200 hours**

_"Skippers log: we have been trapped on this barren island for four days ever since a freak storm blew us off course. I don't know how we got, I don't know where but we certainly aren't in the North Atlantic, in five hours, and neither does Kowalski. I'm just gonna blame the Space squids..."_

Rico stared mournfully at the last sliver of a sardine in his mess tin. His stomach growled like it would eat the rest of him alive and the empty look in his eyes he knew soon enough would turn wild and staring as starvation would set in in a matter of days. Already the bright colours of the fruits and trees that surrounded them were starting to look suspiciously like fish, but when he'd tasted one of these 'fish' he discovered they were possibly some of the most disgusting things he ever tasted.

"Cheer up, boys," skipper announced, "only another week until the Madagascar freighter comes past here and we can get off this island."

"Feeesh." Rico groaned feebly. Kowalski nodded in concurrence before returning to his senseless scribbles on his clipboard. Even Private was looking depressed as he stared off into space, clutching his lunicorn.

"Don't worry," skipper reassured cheerily as he reached under the tarp that still sheltered the bow of the wreck, removing the box. When he opened it and saw nothing but melting ice cubes, he shut the lid, giving the three other team members guilty expressions equal time under his glare, "and this is why we don't eat the emergency rations," then with even thicker sarcasm continued: "now who's up for mango, grub, and multiple year old imitation fish cake that I had been using as ballast sushi?"

Amongst the group a collective groan was uttered.


End file.
